This one is all over the map

-I was thinking I should do a puzzle, but my dining room table is currently covered in Legos, cookbooks, and the decorations I’m making for Lily’s birthday party. And I realized, that, that right there is me in a nutshell.
-The baby is sprawled out flat on her back in my lap. She tried to wake up and squirmed out of cuddle position but couldn’t quite manage to actually stay awake. Update- Been almost an hour, and she’s still out despite multiple attempts to wake up. She’s wiggled, stretched, even made eye contact a few times. Not working for her. Too sleepy. And I just remembered yesterday she was doing this, trying to wake up, and she reached up, grabbed my nose, and fell back asleep with her hand on my nose. Further update- She’s now holding my ear in her sleep.
-I’ve realized my tendency to all or nothing thinking is keeping me from keeping the house as clean as I could. I keep not wanting to half ass a cleaning job, but I don’t have time to be really thorough. So I’ve decided that I’ll go ahead and dust, even when I don’t have time to get the baseboards and door frames. And I’ll sweep even when I can’t go under/around every single piece of furniture. Sometimes a lick and a promise is better than nothing.
-So. This mom guilt thing is crap. Long story short, messed with Lily’s bedtime routine, thinking it wouldn’t be a big deal, and she wound up screaming tired. And clearly that’s all my fault and I’m a terrible mommy and Christopher probably is mad at me too. And it’s Friday so it’s my night to sleep in the other room so I can not wake up all night and clearly that means I’m *abandoning* her how can I do such a thing. I just, seriously? It was an honest mistake; we didn’t think she’d mind the change up so much. And it might have just been because of poop/gas, since she pooped part way through trying to get her to sleep. And Christopher agreed to it, so it’s certainly not all on me. And even if it was, crying for a few minutes (it really wasn’t long, maybe 5-10 minutes?) isn’t the end of the world. If anything it was a good chance to reinforce that mommy and daddy are here for her even when she’s upset. But yeah, feel super guilty anyway. Spectacular.
-Am I the only one who seriously struggles with picking up emotions, attitudes, even speech habits from the books I read? It’s great when I can use it to my advantage; reading my “how to be the perfect housewife” book really helps me stay motivated to keep the house nice. But I’m reading a book about a trans person, and it’s depressing as hell. She was abused a lot as a kid (unrelated to being trans, dad was just a douche), was M to F which is generally harder in our society, grew up in the 60’s, well before there was any acceptance, and only transitioned in the last couple years, so the biography is almost all focused on how hard it was. I think being aware of the realities of how difficult things can be for people in situations you haven’t experienced is important. But I can’t read about someone who constantly felt discouraged and hopeless without feeling that way myself. I’ve had to quit books entirely for that reason, and I’m taking a break on this one. I guess I need to find something cheery to read for a bit. 😕
-I swear, she’s never gonna crawl because she’s got it backwards. She’s never really lifted her belly off the ground, but she can do a backbend to the point she’s balancing on just her feet and the top of her head. Not how it works, kiddo! Also, stop doing that during diaper changes!



-She always looks like she’s in the middle of an impact crater made of toys.


-Arg. I hate when I have an agenda with naps. She’s settled pretty solidly into one long nap per day, and one or two short ones, but which one is long varies. We’re going to a friend’s house later, so I really need this first nap to be the long one. But it’s so much more stressful to not be able to just go with the flow. Update- She got her long nap before we left, took a decent short nap while we were there, and is now passed out after a slightly early bedtime. So it worked out beautifully.
-When I was little we caught a lizard and I took it home and named it Lizzy the Lizard (creative shit right there). But we didn’t know what to feed it so it died. I buried it in the flower bed in a matchbox with a little tombstone I made with my wood burner. I found out later my dad moved the tombstone so I wouldn’t be able to dig it back up. This was a good plan, since I did try. Christopher’s response to this story was, “what is wrong with you?” Is it that weird? I always figured any kid would do that. I wanted to see what a lizard skeleton looked like.
-On a related note, one time I found a snake on the sidewalk at school so I took it inside but its back was broken so it died and I took it home and hid it under my bed. I was worried when we moved that my mom would find it and be mad, but presumably the dog ate it cause it was gone. I’m not sure what my logic was on that one.
-People who make fun of trigger warnings annoy the piss out of me. You just better hope you never go through anything that leaves you needing a warning before you read about certain topics.
-I have this tendency to not tell anyone when I’m depressed, then resenting when people I’m close to don’t know it. And I guess to some degree it’s not *totally* unrealistic to think they will notice when I’m in a really bad mood. But there’s only so many times you can say, “I’m just tired” when they ask what’s wrong before you’re really out of line expecting them to know there’s more to it. I’ve just always hated talking about feelings (writing is better, but not easy), so I don’t want to tell anyone. I think I just want them to not only magically know, but to fix it. Which unfortunately isn’t gonna work. Christopher does usually make an effort to do something like cook me a nice dinner when he can tell I’m down. But depression doesn’t work like that. There’s usually not an actual cause, beyond shitty brain chemistry, so there’s no easy fix. A bad day can be improved by a fancy dessert. Mental illness can not. Which isn’t to say I’m gonna say no to something delicious. It might even briefly make me happier. But it’s a temporary fix, and won’t last long. Time is the only thing I’ve found that fixes it. There are things I can do (or not do) to keep from making it worse, but mostly I just have to wait it out. Which honestly kind of pisses me off. I hate being at the mercy of forces beyond my control, especially when they’re making me feel like crap. It’s a lot like labor, actually. You know it’s not going to last forever, you just have to get through it for a little while. And you tell yourself that beforehand, but once you’re in the middle of it you just want it to effing STOP. And you don’t know how long it’s going to be. And people can be there to support you but ultimately there’s really nothing they can do because you’re the one who has to get through it. (Though what’s the epidural in this metaphor? Can I have one?) Remembering the whole Bloggess “depression lies” thing helps when I’m letting it make me feel down on myself. I’m not a loser or a terrible wife/mom/daughter or a failure or lazy (maybe a little) or any of that. I’m just a little bit broken, and that’s okay. But if I could maybe feel better in the morning, that would be nice.

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-Ending on pictures, since I had so few that were relevant to what I was writing about!

Holding on like she’s on a roller coaster about to take off

No toy in the whole world is more facinating than her beloved binky

 

 

She snuck out of baby jail to watch tv

 


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